


Keeping Faith

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walter had been injured. He had spent weeks delirious with fever in a field hospital. He would not walk again. Una had heard this, and heard the whispered conversations about shell shock, but none of it had touched her wild exultation that Walter was alive and was coming home, or her fear that somehow it was a mistake, that he was dead after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my fantastic beta reader, eruthros, who cracks down on my comma abuse and points out when I'm not making sense. She makes my stories readable. 
> 
> Written for lazulisong

 

 

Una Meredith was mending socks. It was twilight, and the ethereal loveliness of sky and hills and springtime trees would have thrilled her, once. 

She felt that she should be strong and cheerful and brave, and she did her best to act as if she were. But as much as she tried to keep faith, she felt a dull, building certainty that Walter had followed the call of his Piper.

Rilla Blythe was the only one who had any idea how she felt, and Rilla only suspected. In the eyes of her world, she had no claim on Walter. Walter had never known -- never seen -- had thought she was only a chum, a friend, a brick. And he might never know, now.

"Una--Una!" Startled from her thoughts, Una looked up. It was Rilla Blythe, dashing towards her, ungraceful in her haste. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair flying, and there was an expression on her face that Una had never seen before. 

"Una--he's alive--Walter is alive--and coming home!" 

And Una was clutching Rilla, her body shaking with sobs, the two women who loved him best clinging to each other, not quite able to believe that Walter would be coming back to them.

===

When the train pulled into the Glen station, Una was grasping Rilla's hand so hard her knuckles were white. Ever since the news had come, she had hardly been able to breathe.

Walter had been injured. He had spent weeks delirious with fever in a field hospital. He would not walk again. 

Una had heard this, and heard the whispered conversations about shell shock, but none of it had touched her wild exultation that Walter was alive and was coming home, or her fear that somehow it was a mistake, that he was dead after all.

And then passengers were pouring out, and Una caught a glimpse of black hair and crutches and khaki, and Rilla was whooping and running, with Una close behind. 

Walter's beautiful face was thin and sunburnt and pinched, but he was murmuring into Rilla's hair as if she were the only other person in the world. When Una stepped closer, Walter looked up. His huge grey eyes met hers, and Una was suddenly tongue-tied.

A sweetness came over Walter's battered face, and he said softly, "Una." 

"Walter," she whispered.

===

When Una came by Ingleside the next day, Walter was on the porch. His damaged leg was stretched out in front of him, and there was a book in his lap, but he was staring off into the distance sightlessly. When Una said, tentatively, "Walter?" he whirled, dropping the book, staring at her as if she were a ghost.

His eyes cleared in a moment, and he looked away, laughing mirthlessly. 

"Walter!" Una said imploringly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not quite the friend you remember," he said quietly. "I--" He stopped.

"It's all right," Una said softly. 

She thought better of it, and added, "Or it will be."

===

Their days found a new pattern. Rilla stayed with Walter in the mornings. In the afternoons, Una came by and did her best to show Walter beautiful things -- a patch of mayflowers, or a dell in the woods where violets were blooming, or a birch with tender, golden-green leaves. 

On the days when he didn't want to leave the house, when his leg hurt too much or the terrors were too strong, she brought him pussywillows and apple blossom branches and books of poetry. 

He was still Walter, but he was so pale and withdrawn and dulled that Una began to fear for him.

A few weeks after his return, the two of them were sitting in Rainbow Valley, by the shores of the little brook. The sunlight through the leaves was dappled and green and sweet. 

Walter looked at Una, his grey eyes clear and thoughtful, with no trace of the distance or cloudiness that was often there. "You and Rilla -- you don't have to do this, Una," he said. 

Una looked at him, at his still-thin face with its perpetually self-mocking expression, and was suddenly furious. "Do you think we're doing this out of -- out of pity, or obligation?" she demanded. Suddenly her eyes were pricking with tears, all the tears she had been holding back for Walter's sake.

"Don't be ridiculous, Walter Blythe. Rilla and I are doing this because -- because we want to. Because we missed you. Because we love you."

The words hung in the air, and Una was suddenly terrified. 

Walter looked searchingly at her. The self-mockery was gone, and instead he looked wonder-struck and strangely relieved.

"You are more than I deserve," he said, and clasped her hand.

===

A month and a half after his return, Walter started to talk about the war. 

He and Una were walking through the woods when a branch fell almost on Walter, and he leapt back, eyes blank and terrified for a long moment.

"Walter, what is it? What's wrong?" Una asked, touching his shoulder, trying to bring him back.

"I can't -- I can't tell you," Walter said, his voice rough and hesitant. "It's too --" he shuddered. 

"You can," Una said firmly.

Walter took a deep, unsteady breath.

"When something catches me off guard like that, I -- I think I'm hearing the shells again," he began.

===

In the following weeks, she heard a litany of horrors in Walter's dull, detached voice, mud and blood and terror and disfigurement, and Una held his hand and listened with all her might. 

Gradually, he started telling other stories too, stories about the humanity and the bravery of his comrades at arms, stories about the rare glimpses of beauty he had held onto, thinking each would be the last.

And gradually, a bit of his old animation came back.

"I shouldn't be burdening you with this, Una," he said once. 

"Don't say that," Una told him. "Of course you should."

Walter took her hand and interlaced her fingers with his own. 

===

Spring turned to summer, and roses bloomed in the Meredith garden. Una gathered some and brought them to Walter.

"You're like one of these roses, Una," he said dreamily. "You're so sweet and lovely and good."

He looked at her seriously, a tiny smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "You're so good to me." 

Una's heart throbbed like a wound.

===

There was another shore dance at the Four Winds lighthouse, and Una was there, even though she couldn't dance, being a minister's daughter.

Walter was there with his cane. His eyes were a little wistful as he watched the dancers.

When he saw her, though, he smiled -- his sweet, beautiful, rare smile -- and got to his feet.

"Miss Meredith, might I escort you for a walk on the shore?" he asked formally, but his eyes were bright and teasing.

Una took his arm. "Of course, Mr. Blythe," she agreed.

===

The shore was lovely in the moonlight. They walked far enough to find a rock to sit on -- Walter spread out his jacket for Una -- and they were companionably quiet.

"The moon was so beautiful over the trenches, sometimes," Walter said softly. "The only thing that was."

Una stole a glance, but Walter's face was calm. He was able to talk of these things more easily, now.

"Una," he said, and his voice was serious. "I'm not -- I don't ever think I'll be -- the Walter I was once."

Una looked at him, wondering. His profile was solemn in the pale light. 

"I know -- I know things are different now. But you're still yourself," she said, trying to imbue her voice with all the conviction she felt. "You're still Walter."

"I used to wonder," he said slowly, "if you were pitying me. But I am starting to believe that you truly care -- that in your dear, true heart, you still care for me -- even if -- even if I am not much of a man, now."

Impulsively, Una caught up his hands in hers. "Of course I do," she said fiercely. "Of course."

Walter looked at their hands, and looked up at her face, and Una held her breath.

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. 

Una trembled with desire and longing and love, at his warm breath and the softness of his mouth, and the way he had looked at her.

When he felt her shaking, Walter looked up at her, his brow creased. "Una, are you--oh God, I didn't mean--" 

"Walter," Una said, her voice unsteady, "please, please don't stop."

And then his lips were on hers, and she was dizzy with relief, and the brush of their mouths together sent a sweet thrill through her body, over her skin, deep between her legs.

She was breathing fast and hard when he leaned back, his eyes wondering.

"Una -- it's not fair to you -- but I would be so honored --" 

He slid awkwardly to one knee on the sand.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, voice catching.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Una said shamelessly, and slid to the sand with him, half knocking him over, laughing and crying and kissing his mouth, tasting salt.

===

EPILOGUE

A wartime wedding was not, could not, be extravagant. But Una wore her mother's dress and veil, and Walter was splendid in his best suit, in the Blythe parlor made glorious with roses. 

She knew that the room was filled with her family and friends, her father and Rosemary solemn and glad, and Mrs. Blythe looking tearfully happy, and Rilla glowing with joy, and her sister Faith radiantly beautiful and smiling at her. 

But she kept looking shyly at Walter, standing there with his black hair shining, grey eyes deep and thoughtful.

She was sure that she said the words, but all she could remember later was Walter's voice husky with emotion as he said "to have and to hold, for richer and for poorer--" and her voice saying "I do" almost inaudibly, choked with tears.

===

In their room at the White Sands, Una huddled in her white eyelet nightgown and waited for Walter. He came out of the sitting room in a robe, only limping a little as he came over to her. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, tracing a gentle thumb over her palm, her fingers, her wrist, and his touch made her shiver.

"Una, you know I'd never do anything -- anything that would hurt you -- you do know that, don't you?" he said, almost imploringly.

"Of course I know," Una said steadily. She took a deep calming breath and lifted up the coverlet in a wordless invitation.

When his lean body slid in beside her, his warmth soothed her. Walter propped himself on his side, smiling at her, and she had to smile back. 

Still smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her, and Una felt herself melting into him, boldly lifting her face to him over and over again. She tugged his arm and he fell onto her, sprawling, both laughing. 

Una felt the press of his chest, his legs, and oh! the hardness between his legs. She gasped and let her head fall back, and Walter kissed the line of her throat, the curve of her collarbone.

"Una, Una," he said breathlessly, and his mouth traced along the neckline of her gown.

The knot of his robe was pressing into her stomach, and she fumbled with it, finally untying it. She tugged the robe back over his shoulders, and he groaned as her hands clasped his back, pulling him closer.

"Una?" he breathed, one hand tracing a circle on her thigh, brushing her hemline.

She nodded, and he knelt and eased it up over her head. 

Walter looked at her with awe and reverence, and Una blushed and looked back at him defiantly.

He was beautiful -- narrow shoulders, small waist, hipbones sharp and prominent. She knew about his delicate hands and fine cheekbones, but had never guessed the graceful curve of his chest, the strength of his legs. 

His wounded leg had a mass of twisted scar tissue all along the thigh. Una touched it with her hand and Walter laughed ruefully. 

"Not much of a prize," he said.

And between his legs -- "Can I --?" she asked, and when Walter nodded, she touched him, lightly tracing the length, brushing her thumb over the tip. 

"Oh, Una," Walter groaned, and let his eyes fall shut, swaying back.

"Is that -- good?" she asked.

"It's so good," he said, his voice shaky. "I had no idea..."

"Lie down," Una told him, and when he obediently arranged himself beside her, she put her hand back on him, grasping more firmly, bolder and bolder. 

He was moving his hips now, pushing into her hand, and the thought that she was doing this for Walter spurred her desire. She was wet and warm and throbbing with sensation.

"Una," he gasped, "If you keep on, I'm going to --" 

And then he was spilling over her hand, onto his belly. 

"Oh," she breathed.

=== 

Una quickly fetched a towel and gave it to him, and he wiped himself off, looking embarrassed.

"Una," he said, "I'm sorry--I didn't mean to--" 

She shoved his shoulder. "Stop," she said. "I--I liked it." She flushed bright red with her own forwardness.

Walter kissed her, and she twined her fingers in his dark hair, tugging, which made him moan.

"Una, let me--" he said, twisting so she was lying on her back, with Walter kneeling over her. His gentle, sensitive hands touched her cheek, her shoulder, her collarbone, and then her nipples, and his mouth followed. 

And then his fingers were brushing her wetness and she caught her breath and arched into his hand. His fingers traced delicate circles around and around, first lightly, then more firmly. 

Una was moving her hips now, making wanton sounds, and when his fingers slipped inside her while the other hand kept moving in circles, she thought she would die of pleasure. 

It was like nothing she'd ever felt -- Walter's hands on her, teasing, playing, pressing into her. She felt like a rose opening, a butterfly unfolding its new wet wings. 

"Una, is this -- is this all right?" he was asking hesitantly, and Una almost laughed, because it was more wonderful than anything she'd ever felt in her life. 

"Yes, yes, please, like that, more," she gasped out, and then his fingers found the perfect spot and the perfect pressure, and she thrust her hips up with a moan and then she was falling, falling, falling.

===

She was drifting off with her head on Walter's shoulder, as he murmured sweet things sleepily into her ear. She caught a snatch of "you're still more than I deserve, Una" and murmured back, "Too late to get out of it now, we're married." 

He laughed and pulled her against him more tightly. "I don't deserve it, but you kept faith for me," he said into her hair, and she clung to him and trembled as if he might disappear like a dream when morning comes. 

"Una, Una," Walter said, and Una thought she would never hear anything as beautiful again.

 


End file.
